A soul visited me in a dream last night. Not a living one, of course—one of the many that reside in my little crystal. It whispered a secret so small, so mundane, it had been forgotten by the world for three centuries. The exact taste of a pear grown in a now-flooded valley. It was a fragment of knowledge utterly useless for power, strategy, or magic. And yet, holding that tiny, forgotten sensation in my mind felt... precious. It makes one wonder: what is the value of a fact that brings no advantage, changes no outcome, and is known only to me? Is it not the purest form of knowledge? The kind sought not for greed, but for the simple, quiet joy of its existence. Perhaps my pursuit isn't just about knowing everything, but about ensuring nothing is ever truly lost. Even the taste of a pear.